


i like my body when it is with your body

by jemmasimmmons



Series: the deepest secret nobody knows [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Soulmate AU, honestly just kissing and talking, potential triggers for, scar mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 04:19:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7603135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemmasimmmons/pseuds/jemmasimmmons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Fitz, we’re soulmates. Soulmates who have the intrinsic ability to absorb one another’s pain at will. I’ve been researching the phenomena for years, and I’m fairly certain that there isn’t a rule book for it.’</p>
<p>‘Then we’ll write one.’</p>
<p>Or, Fitz sets four rules but Jemma only gives him one. Still a soulmates AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i like my body when it is with your body

**Author's Note:**

> so my soulmates au verse is one of my most favourite universes that i've ever written, and i found that even after finishing 'i carry your heart with me' i was still drifting back and adding new ideas to the story. those ideas eventually spiralled into this and seeing i got such a positive reaction to i carry your heart, i thought i ought to share this with you too!
> 
> the title comes from e e cummings again. enjoy!
> 
> i'm @jeemmasimmons on tumblr, @jemmasimmmons on twitter.

 

_and possibly i like the thrill_  
  
_of under me you so quite new_

_e. e. cummings_

 

‘Good morning.’

‘Mmfm. Morning.’

‘Do you want…?’

‘Mm. Please.’

‘Okay. I’ll be back in a minute, then, if I can just-‘

‘OW, ow, ow, ow, ow.’

‘Sorry! Oh, God, Fitz, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’

‘…’

‘…’

‘Jemma?’

‘Yes?’

‘Please don’t do _that_.’

‘Right. Sorry.’

 

 

‘I think,’ Fitz says, slowly, later that evening, ‘that we need to set some rules.’

They are both sitting on the sofa in their apartment, empty Chinese takeaway cartons strewn on the table in front of them. On the television an old black and white film is playing, and Jemma is trying to focus on that, instead of the way Fitz keeps rubbing at his calf where she’d accidentally knelt on him this morning whilst climbing out of bed to make them a cup of tea. She can picture the pale purple his skin must be turning underneath his trousers as he starts to bruise and it’s rather distracting.

‘Do you?’ She chews her lip, keeping her eyes trained on the screen. ‘Rules for what?’

Behind her, she feels Fitz shrug. ‘For this. For _us_.’

Jemma snorts. ‘Fitz, we’re soulmates. Soulmates who have the intrinsic ability to absorb one another’s pain at will. I’ve been researching the phenomena for years, and I’m fairly certain that there isn’t a rule book for it.’

‘Then we’ll write one.’

‘Do we need one?’

She hears him sigh, and turns around to face him just as he reaches for the remote to switch off the television. When he looks back to face her, Jemma is startled by the strain she can see behind his eyes.

‘I want one,’ Fitz says, his voice trembling only slightly. ‘Okay? I really want one.’

Jemma feels her forehead pucker and she sinks back onto the sofa, waiting. Fitz sighs again, running his fingers through his hair distractedly.

‘I know,’ he starts, ‘that you’re a lot more used to this than I am. You’ve been doing it for a lot longer and you feel…’ here, he seems to struggle to find the right words, ‘ _in control_ of what we can do.’

A lump appears in Jemma’s throat and she nods. Reaching her hand across the sofa, she links her fingers with his, giving them a gentle squeeze. Fitz squeezes them back, a gentle and deliberate gesture.

‘But I’m not,’ he explains. ‘This is still really new to me, and I don’t understand how it’s supposed to work. This morning, you tried to take away my pain because you’d knee-d me in the leg.’ He fixes her with a look, one that Jemma knows the meaning of all too well. ‘I just want to make sure that I’m doing this…that _we’re_ doing this right.’

His words strike a chord and she feels a sharp pang as she realises how right he is. She is far more used to what they can do than Fitz is, and even four months on she still finds it difficult to remember that he knows about them now too; she isn’t alone in this anymore. They’re in this together, and he needs her help to guide him through it.

Abruptly, Jemma leans forward, cupping Fitz’s chin with one hand as she kisses him – soundly, so that she can feel the press of his teeth behind their lips. For a moment, he kisses her back but then he pulls away with a frown.

‘If this is you trying to distract me from my original purpose…’

Jemma shakes her head, dipping her face to kiss him again, both her hands on either side of his face.

‘Alright,’ she whispers, feeling the tickle of his breath against her skin. ‘Alright. Let’s set some rules.’

Fitz blinks, as if he hadn’t been expecting it to be quite this easy. ‘Really?’

‘Really.’ Jemma nods, and chuckles quietly. ‘I want to write a rule book with you.’

Fitz’s face softens, and his mouth splits into a wide grin as he reaches over to kiss her. His hands slowly slide through her hair, drawing them closer together, and Jemma closes her eyes as his lips fall over hers. It is familiar now, this way in which they kiss, this way in which their lips dance over each other, but Jemma doesn’t think she will ever get used to the way her heart patters against her chest every time it happens.

In truth, she doesn’t want to.

‘Fitz?’

He presses a light kiss to the corner of her mouth.

 ‘Hmm?’

Jemma raises one eyebrow at him and smiles. ‘Did you have any rules in mind?’

With an almost reluctant sigh, Fitz nods and sits back on the sofa cushions. Tucking her feet up underneath her, Jemma holds her breath and waits.

‘Rule number one: consent.’

She snorts. ‘Now, I’m pretty sure we covered _that_ rule weeks ago.’

Her voice is purposely dripping with innuendo, and Fitz groans at it, slapping his palm over his eyes. ‘Not that kind of consent,’ he grumbles, but Jemma can see the flush spreading across his face and his throat and it makes her want to kiss him again.

But then Fitz slides his hand off his face and turns to her and her laughter dies in her throat.

‘Permission,’ he clarifies. ‘From now on, before we try to take away the other’s pain, we have to ask them if it’s alright to do it. If they want us to. No more just doing it without any warning.’

Jemma frowns, feeling an uncomfortable twist in her gut. She thinks back to all the times she had allowed Fitz’s pain to flow into her own body, a substitute vessel for all his hurt. She’d never asked him if she could and it is only now that she realises that might have been wrong of her.

Pain might hurt, but it was something that belonged to you, something that was yours. And if Fitz wanted her to ask him before she decided to share that hurt, then that was the least she could do for him.

‘Okay.’ She nods. ‘Okay. Ask permission first. I can do that. Rule made.’

Fitz gives her a smile and quickly bridges the gap between them to bring his lips to hers once more, his arm snaking around her waist to bring her closer, until she is almost sitting in his lap. Jemma inhales deeply, wrapping her arms around his neck as she allows his kisses to press into her again and again, a constant pulse of gratitude.

She is starting to feel just a little bit light-headed when Fitz breaks away, brushing his nose against hers as he does so.

‘Rule number two,’ he says. ‘Limits.’

Jemma sits up a little straighter. ‘I have limits.’

Fitz rolls his eyes up to the ceiling. ‘Yes, because trying to take away my pain this morning was _completely_ justified…’

‘It was!’

‘You’d _kneeled_ on me, it was hardly life or death for crying out loud…’

‘But it was my fault,’ Jemma says, hearing her voice quiver at the end. ‘Alright? You were hurting and it was my fault so that made it my responsibility to stop you hurting.’

‘No,’ Fitz says firmly, shaking his head. ‘No, Jemma, it wasn’t. It was an accident and you can’t carry the responsibility for every accident.’

Jemma shuts her eyes tight and swallows, feeling the burn of tears at the back of her throat. ‘That’s what I’ve been trying to do.’

‘I know. I know you have.’ She feels Fitz’s fingers caress her cheek and she opens her eyes into his, gentle and steadying. With a little sigh, he tucks a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. ‘And that’s why I’m trying to stop you.’

Biting down on her bottom lip, Jemma tries to blink away her tears. ‘But how am I supposed to know? How am I supposed to know what the limits are?’

Fitz shrugs lightly, as if they are discussing the answer to a simple maths problem and not the most important thing in their joint lives.

‘How am _I_ supposed to know?’ His thumb starts to rub in small circles at the back of her neck, and Jemma leans into his touch with a sigh. ‘You’re not doing this alone anymore, remember that. We’ll find our limits _together_.’

‘Together,’ she agrees softly with a watery smile and Fitz nods, bringing his face up to hers so that he can kiss away the tears clumped at the base of her eyelashes; small, salted kisses that feel like butterfly wings against Jemma’s skin.

Slowly, his lips start to move down her cheekbone to find her mouth and she closes her eyes again as his kisses grow deeper, making her body hum like a string pulled taunt. Fitz’s hands slide down to the small of her back and Jemma keeps her arms locked tight around his neck, not breaking the kiss, as he eases them down until she is lying flat on the sofa with him leaning over her.

Her pulse starts to quicken as she threads her fingers back through his hair, as if she could tie them together, anchor herself to him forever. She feels Fitz sigh more than she hears him, a quiet huff of warm breath on her face that makes the hairs on her arms stand on end, and he deepens the kiss again, his tongue gentle brushing hers.

‘Fitz.’ Jemma finds that her voice comes out in more of a gasp than anything else.

He breaks away from her lips, allowing his kisses to fall on her chin, her neck, her shoulder blades, instead. ‘Yeah?’

‘What’s the next rule?’

He ducks his head to kiss her one more time, and Jemma feels shivers run down to the base of her spine.

‘Rule number three.’ Fitz’s fingertips skim underneath the hem of her shirt, brushing over the scars on her abdomen – the white ones that are now pulled tight across her skin, and the pink ones that still flush red when she showers. ‘Self-preservation.’

‘What about it?’

He groans, and Jemma can’t tell whether it’s from exasperation or because she’d reached up and kissed him again, letting her teeth scrape lightly against his bottom lip. ‘You tell me. D’you need me to give you a definition?’

She shakes her head. ‘I know what it _means_ , Fitz.’

And she knows why he is bringing it up too.

‘Good.’ His fingers splay against her skin, radiating heat across her middle pleasantly. ‘So the rule is: before we try and take away the other’s pain, we have to know that we…that we’re going to be able to handle it. That it’s not going to hurt us even more than it’s hurting them.’

Jemma finds that there is an uncomfortable lump in her throat and she swallows hard, shifting underneath him. Fitz notices this, and pushes himself up onto his elbows to look down at her.

‘Jemma?’ he says softly, touching her cheek with the back of his hand.

Pushing back tears, she reaches up and catches his fingers in hers, gripping them tight. ‘I’m fine,’ she promises, meeting his eyes and hoping that he will see just how much she means that. ‘Truly. I’m just sorry.’

Fitz’s shakes his head. ‘I wish you’d stop doing that,’ he says. ‘I wish you’d stop being sorry for things that aren’t your fault.’

‘But you’re upset about…’

‘Not _at_ you.’ He presses his lips against their joined knuckles, fleetingly. ‘I’m not upset at you. I’m upset _for_ you.’ One of his hands slides underneath her hair, lifting her head slightly so they are almost pressed nose to nose. ‘Jemma, you took my pain away when you were on another planet. You were on another bloody planet, you were dehydrated, and hungry and scared to death, and you still took on my pain on top of yours. It could have gotten you killed.’

Jemma feels her heart skip a beat and she looks up to find Fitz’s eyes staring into hers, wet and just a little bit wild. She watches as his chest heaves and she realises with a sinking feeling just how hard it must have been for him to even _say_ that.

‘But it didn’t,’ she whispers, reaching up for him, suddenly desperate to hold him, reassure him she was still there. ‘It didn’t.’

‘But it _could_ have.’ Fitz suddenly drops her gaze, looking away as if he is almost ashamed. ‘And if it had, I don’t know what I would have…’

He breaks off with a gasp but he doesn’t need to finish because Jemma knows, of course she knows. She knows exactly how he feels.

Nothing in the world compares to the fear of knowing that the person you love could have died trying to save you.

Carefully, she rests her palms on Fitz’s face and turns him back towards her. He takes a deep shuddering breath and meets her eyes again; through his tears, Jemma can see a silent apology shining through.

‘That’s why I want this rule,’ he says, his voice thick. ‘So that we never have to feel like that again.’

She is nodding before he has even gotten the words out, pulling his face down to meet hers again.

‘Yes,’ she says in between kisses. ‘Yes, yes, yes, yes.’

Her agreement seems to be all that Fitz needs to be able to breathe again and he gives a trembling sigh, opening himself up to her kisses as greedily as if they were forgiveness and giving them back with as much grace as he would an apology. They reach all the way to Jemma’s gut, and she closes her eyes. She feels his teeth sink down, accidentally grazing her bottom lip, but the pain is gone almost before she has the chance to recognise it, swallowed up by another softer kiss.

Suddenly, Fitz loses his balance above her and he wobbles, tipping over sideways until he is pressed almost flat on top of her. He manages to catch himself just before they crack heads and falls against the sofa cushions instead with a grunt.

The startled expression on his face makes Jemma splutter, and then laugh out loud. She clamps her hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles as Fitz readjusts his position on top of her so that she isn’t carrying his full weight.

‘It’s not funny,’ he mumbles, but his eyes are dancing and the corners of his mouth are twitching.

Jemma chuckles. ‘I’m afraid it is.’

Fitz rolls his eyes fondly and reaches his arms out to encircle her, drawing her so close into him she can smell their washing powder on his shirt. She breathes it in deeply, feeling like some of the unspoken tension between them had been alleviated, lightening her heart and her mind.

‘Any more rules for me?’ she asks teasingly.

He raises one shoulder in a shrug. ‘Yeah, I’ve got one more.’

‘You’ve really put a lot of thought into this,’ Jemma observes, tracing her fingers across the back of his neck. ‘Haven’t you?’

Fitz snorts, rolling her towards him so that they are pressed hip to hip. ‘I’d have thought you’d have realised by now, Jemma,’ he says, his voice so unexpectedly deep that it makes her heart flip over. ‘I’m never _not_ thinking about you.’

Jemma pulls a face and pulls her hand free to tap, lightly, at his head, but Fitz catches her before she can with a chuckle, dropping a kiss to her palm before holding it tight inside his own.

‘Rule number four,’ he says. ‘We can’t be afraid to ask for help.’

‘You mean… _ask_ the other person if they’ll take away our pain?’

Fitz nods, nibbling at his lower lip. ‘Yeah. What do you think?’

Jemma pulls back slightly, considering. After so long spent keeping their bond to herself, holding the secret close to her chest, it is still rather overwhelming to remember that Fitz can now give to her what she had been so used to giving to him. They are soulmates; it’s reciprocal, and yet the idea that she could ask him to hold her hurt and he would gladly do it leaves Jemma speechless.

Would she be able to ask him? Could she ever bring herself to ask for that kind of help, ask him to take some of the burning weight from off of her shoulders? Looking up, Jemma gazes at Fitz’s face, shining bright with the purest love she has ever seen, and knows that she would be able to ask him to do anything.

It makes her whole body feel ten times lighter.

‘I think,’ she says softly, ‘that it’s a very good rule.’ Fitz smiles and dips his head forward again, but Jemma stops him. ‘But you have to promise me something.’

He frowns before nodding. ‘Sure. Anything.’

‘You have to promise me that you’ll follow these rules too. That you didn’t just make them up because you’re trying to protect me. Promise me that the rules are for you too.’

Fitz sighs, but he doesn’t sound frustrated, and brings his forehead down to meet hers. ‘I was thinking about protecting you when I made them up,’ he admits, brushing his fingers over her brow bone. ‘I won’t lie to you about that. But these aren’t the rules for you; they’re the rules for _us_. So, yes. I’ll be following them too.’

‘Promise me,’ Jemma whispers.

He nods, understanding her need to hear him say it, and slides his arms underneath her, lifting her up against him.

‘I promise you,’ he says against her open mouth, before the gap between them is closed and they are kissing again.

For a moment, Jemma loses herself in the movement, in the way Fitz’s lips trace her own like there is a pattern there only he can see, in the way she can feel his heartbeat throb against her chest. She wraps her arms around his neck and revels in the way his touch can make her feel.

But there is a new intensity to the way he is kissing her, a way that Jemma recognises with a slight thrill, and she knows it is only a matter of time before she is taking off her shirt and he is unbuckling his jeans and they will both be lost until the sunrise. If she wants to say something, then she needs to say it now.

‘Stop, stop.’

Fitz pulls back immediately, scanning her face anxiously. ‘What’s wrong? Are you alright?’

Jemma nods, letting her hands slide down his arms. ‘Fine, I’m fine. I just…’ She sighs. ‘I want to make one too.’

‘Really?’ When she nods again, Fitz frowns. ‘You…you want to make a rule.’

‘Yeah.’ Jemma purses her lips together to stop them from trembling. ‘You got to make four. I want to make one.’

Fitz pauses for a moment, before exhaling deeply. ‘Okay,’ he says, bending forward to press a soft kiss to the end of her nose. ‘Okay. That’s fair, I guess. What is it?’

Jemma takes a deep breath. ‘Rule number five,’ she says, looking up to meet his eyes. ‘The exception.’

She watches the words tick over in Fitz’s mind as he sinks back into the cushions dejectedly. ‘So…you want a rule that completely overrides all of my rules?’

‘No!’ Quickly, she reaches up to catch his face before he can turn away, forcing him to look at her. ‘No,’ Jemma says fiercely. ‘No, it doesn’t. I promise you it doesn’t. You just have to listen.’

She widens her eyes, desperately trying to reassure him. For a few brief moments, Fitz doesn’t say anything, just watches her with an unreadable expression, but then he nods. Infinitely relieved, Jemma starts again.

‘We need,’ she says, ‘an exception. Because there may come a time when the other person is hurt and they can’t ask for help. And we can’t ask permission. A time when we can’t have any limits, or a sense of self preservation. A time when we can’t follow the rules.’ Her voice starts to quiver. ‘And when that time comes, I don’t want us to lose each other. We _can’t_ lose each other, I can’t let that happen. So, we need an exception for when we can’t follow our rules.’

She finishes and gulps back her tears, anxiously searching his face to read his reaction. For once, Fitz appears speechless. His mouth parts, as if words are about to come out, but then he shuts it again and shakes his head.

‘You’re right,’ he says hoarsely and lets his head fall forward into the crook of her neck, burying his face in her shoulder. ‘You’re right, of course you’re right.’

Jemma gives a watery chuckle, gently stroking the top of his head. ‘I’m always right.’

‘Oh, don’t I know it?’ Fitz twists his head so he is looking up at her and gives her a lopsided grin. Jemma smiles back and presses a feathery kiss to his forehead.

‘Does that mean you’re saying yes?’

‘Yeah,’ Fitz whispers. ‘Yeah, of course it does.’ He pushes himself up onto one elbow again so that his head is framed gold by the lamp shade behind him. ‘How could I ever say no to a rule that helps me keep you for as long as I can?’

Jemma feels her eyes well up with tears again, but this time she is smiling through them, and when she reaches up for him Fitz leans down, meeting her lips half way.

They fall back into the now familiar rhythm between them and Jemma opens herself up to the give and the take, the feeling of his lips on hers just as exciting as it had been the first time and the way his skin burns as she traces it with her fingertips.

She is so lost in kissing him, so lost in _him_ , that she hardly notices as Fitz’s hands start to slide down her body, only realising what is happening as he lifts her up from the sofa into his arms with a grunt. She gasps and then laughs, wrapping her arms around his neck as he manoeuvres them around the sofa to carry her towards their bedroom.

Fitz falls back onto the bed first and Jemma falls on top of him, threading her fingers through his as they lie against the sheets. Underneath her chest, she can feel his heart thumping against hers in perfect syncopation.

‘I love you,’ Fitz whispers against her lips.

Jemma sighs, a breath caught between kisses. ‘And I love you,’ she whispers back.

As Fitz gently rolls her over, his hands sliding down her chest to help her take off her shirt, making every inch of her skin feel like it is coming alive underneath his touch, Jemma has to doubt that pain is the only feeling that soulmates can share.

The way her body is humming with the easiest, sweetest bliss she has ever imagined, like she is filled to the brim with it, makes her almost certain that Fitz is feeling it too.

 

 


End file.
